Slytherin's Secret
by the.woods
Summary: Someone was ranting about Mudbloods and blood traitors in the Slytherin common room, again.  Theodore/Hermione. Blaise, Pansy, Draco, Ginny.
1. Chapter 1

Someone was ranting about Mudbloods and blood traitors in the Slytherin common room, again.

Theodore was not surprised at how quickly the defeated Dark Lord's prejudices rose up among his former followers' offspring. It was the first night back at Hogwarts after the damage of the war had been settled; a year and a half since he'd last been in the castle. Only a handful of other Slytherins in Theodore's year decided to return to Hogwarts for their seventh year. Most students in the common room ignored the rant given by the younger Slytherin. He was a student who, judging by his need for attention, had no individual stake in the war. Theodore noticed Blaise and Pansy staring openly at the stranger. Goyle, even more pathetic without Crabbe by his side, stood at an awkward distance, eyes concentrated on the floor. A few students were quietly nodding in agreement. Theodore leaned against the fireplace, watching the scene with growing interest.

It was Draco who, surprisingly, shut the boy up. Theodore saw the blond out of the corner of his eye walk into the common room. "Oi," he commanded, causing the room to glance in his direction. "What's all this about Voldemort?"

"Just venting, is all."

Draco walked up to the kid and towered over him. "Just venting, ey? Next time you decide to vent about blood and purity and nobility and the like, come knock on a former Death Eater's door. Knock on mine. Or on Nott's," Draco mentioned as he nodded towards Theodore. "Or maybe you could visit Crabbe's tombstone, ask him about his final stand for your Dark Lord." Draco leaned in closer, his eyes narrowed at the scared Slytherin. "When you start to rue the day you met bloody Harry Potter, or when the marks you bare are thanks to the Dark Lord's lunacy, then you've got a right to take a piss on blood traitors and Mudbloods."

The blond pushed past the boy and headed toward his room. Everyone else parted awkwardly, as if they were like cattle unsure of where to wander. Theodore crossed his arms over his chest and remained standing against the fireplace. There was a lot to be done this year; understanding Draco's motivations was only part of his plan.

Blaise and Pansy made their way over to Theodore's area. He greeted them with a nod.

"Bit shifty tonight," Blaise commented quietly. Theodore nodded in agreement.

Pansy combed through her short hair and looked around. "What do you think of Draco's little outburst?"

"Hardly little," Theodore answered.

Blaise smirked. "I got your owl, by the way. Curious to see how the research goes."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Research?"

"Just a bit of reading before classes started. I'm planning to hit the library right now, before lights out."

"Running for resident bookworm, are we?" Pansy teased.

"I'd have to go up against Mudblood Granger for that one," Theodore said with an eye-roll.

He said goodnight to the pair and headed out of the common room quietly. Theodore enjoyed being left to his thoughts as his shoes hit the paved pebbles of the Hogwarts corridors. Soon enough, he found himself in front of the library. With a simple _alohomora_, Theodore unlocked the entrance and made his way towards the restricted section. He pulled out a piece of parchment from his robes, whispered light into his wand, and headed to the Restricted Section.

A cough sounded out behind him. Theodore stopped without turning around. "_Excuse _me," said the unmistakable voice of the newly appointed Head Girl. "But I believe you need to be in your common room."

He turned around slowly, twirling his wand with his fingers. "Pardon me, Granger," Theodore bit out sarcastically, "but it's not curfew, yet. No harm in roaming the halls."

Granger gave him an incredulous look. "Nice attempt at spinning it, Nott. What you call "roaming the halls," Muggle law claims "breaking and entering.""

He knew she was trying to bait him. Introduce the Muggle world into their conversation and get a rise out of him, an insult.

"The war's over, Granger," Theodore answered, his voice dangerously quiet. "Maybe you should take a lesson from the Headmistress and cast your prejudices aside."

"Bit hypocritical of you," she argued. "I've got ears. I could hear your lot still using "Mudblood" on the train—"

"_Your_ lot?" Theodore echoed, taking a step towards Granger. "And what lot, exactly, is _my_ lot?"

She narrowed her eyes. Without a word, she walked up to him, staring him down. She reached out and grabbed his left hand, pulling the sleeve of his robes up without hesitance. They both looked down at the dull mark along his forearm.

"It's fading," Granger said, bringing her eyes away from his Dark Mark and settling on his face. "But it'll always be there. Can you imagine? Your kids asking about it? Having to constantly cover it up when you walk down the street?"

She paused. Her honesty unnerved him, but he resolved not to fidget in her grasp. There was a small silence settling between them. He took his arm back without malice and covered the Dark Mark with his sleeve. "You're right about one thing," Theodore responded. "It'll always be a reminder. Not a reminder of the choice I, or Draco, or the rest of us former junior Death Eaters had," he said with heavy sarcasm. "No…it'll be a reminder of what choice we _didn't_ have, the philosophies and actions forced on us by parents brainwashed by an egotistic madman."

Theodore wordlessly put his light out. The library went dark. He made his way around the Head Girl. She stiffened and he felt it as he brushed lightly against her shoulder. It was curious, and he wanted to reason she went stiff because she was a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin, or because she was a prude and he, well, was a boy. He felt it was something else, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

"I saw you," she said suddenly, forcing Theodore to cease walking. "On the battlefield, during the battle over Hogwarts." He turned and faced her in the dark. She walked up to him and even though he couldn't see her, he could tell her eyes were searching for his. "You were healing someone," she continued. "In the corridor by the Room of Requirement."

Theodore sighed. "Yeah. That was Blaise. We were looking for Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco. All of us made a pact to make our way to that room so we could take shelter for the rest of the battle."

He heard Granger's robes rustle as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Only Draco and Goyle made it out," she reflected.

"Yeah, well, some blokes go bloody crazy," Theodore muttered.

"Ron decided not to come back because he didn't want to see anyone who fought for the other side," Granger responded. "He lost his brother during the Hogwarts battle, you know."

Theodore pocketed his wand. "I thought I saw the other Weasley at the feast."

She nodded. "Ginny's here. She's a bit more—forgiving," Granger finished lamely.

Another silence surrounded the pair. Before things got too awkward, Theodore promptly turned on his heels and exited the library, not bothering to offer a goodbye.

**x.x.x**

He didn't like the way Granger started to stare at him when she thought he wasn't looking. It was unnerving, and not in a tingly sort of way. At the end of the first week, Theodore made his way to the Great Hall for a late lunch. As soon as he passed through the two large doors, her eyes found his. He glared. She looked back to her Gryffindor friends and he made his way to the Slytherin table in a foul mood.

Blaise looked up from his meal as Theodore sat down. "Knickers in a bunch again, Nott?"

Pansy smirked. Theodore rolled his eyes and grabbed a piece of bread from Blaise's plate. "Granger keeps staring at me."

Both Pansy and Blaise looked across the Great Hall towards the Head Girl. Granger was looking at Theodore's back.

"Maybe she just wants to sex you up," Pansy offered sarcastically.

Draco interrupted the conversation by plopping down next to Theodore. "Who's sexing who up?"

"Granger wants Nott," Pansy said with a smirk. Draco grinned mischievously and laughed. Theodore took a sip from his drink.

"Out of all the birds at Hogwarts, it's the Mud—" Blaise stopped himself mid-sentence. A brief silence surrounded the group. Draco scowled.

"Oh, come off it," he grumbled. "Why do we have to stop using words that've been in existence for Merlin knows how long?" He stood up on the bench and took a seat on the table. Theodore rubbed his right temple and closed his eyes, awaiting Draco's recklessness. He was just glad there were very little students in the area, and no professors around.

"Oi, Granger!" Draco called out. Theodore looked at Blaise and Pansy, who were both watching Draco with grins on their faces. "Word is you feel like shagging Theo senseless!"

All of the Slytherin table except for Theodore laughed in response. Granger's jaw dropped. Potter stood up in her defense. "Take that back, you git!"

"Why? It's not an insult to Granger," Pansy snickered.

"Yeah, if anything I've just humiliated poor Theo over here," Draco continued. "I mean shagging a Mudblood is one thing, but shagging _Granger_?"

Theodore turned around in time to catch the riled look on her face. She stood up dramatically and practically marched out of the Great Hall. Weasley, the younger one, followed her best friend out as Potter made his way towards the Slytherin table.

"Why'd you say that to Hermione?" Potter asked Draco rather threateningly. Draco hopped off the table and stood in front of him. "She doesn't even know Nott."

"She thinks she does," Theodore finally spoke. "Just like the rest of you."

Potter blinked. "What do you mean?"

"We're constantly being persecuted for things we had very little control over," Pansy stated.

He looked to Pansy, then Draco. "So nobody's got any sympathy for the Slytherins," Potter mocked. "Boo hoo."

A few other Gryffindors Theodore recognized from the battlefield as well as from various classes made their way over to join Potter. Theodore left the scene before it escalated. He came across Granger and Weasley sitting by a window. The redhead patted her friend's hand. "Harry's probably giving them a piece of his mind," she offered as comfort.

Granger smiled. "Ron would, too, if he were here."

A silence draped upon them and suddenly Theodore was uncomfortable watching. He felt as though he was invading something private, something sacred he had no right to witness. He backed away and headed for the library, anxious for some time to himself.

It was a curious thing, the subtle changes in people after the war. He first noticed it in Draco, during their talk among the Malfoy Manor gardens. Anxious to engage head on with anything and anyone in his way, the blond tried to find any excuse for a fight. Theodore speculated it was because of his first mission; because he proved to be a failure in the Dark Lord's eyes, it seemed as though Draco aimed to prove his worth through aggression.

Along with Draco and Theodore, Blaise, Pansy, and a few other Slytherins were ordered to fight along side grown Death Eaters in the final battle of Hogwarts. Pansy had become shellshocked within the first hour. Luckily Blaise was there to talk her out of it. "It's either us or them, Pans," he kept repeating. Theodore fired spells left and right from within their barricaded classroom. Death Eaters—he didn't count himself as one, even if he bore the Dark Mark—had told them all to aim for the kill. Instead, Theodore fired spells that proved harmful, but not fatal. He had tried to keep him and his friends safe; they needed to reach the Room of Requirement and meet up with Draco and his crew.

"I don't want to be here," Pansy had shrieked suddenly, clawing at Blaise in a fit of hysteria. She started to yell and cry rather loudly. Theodore felt outside of the situation as Blaise tried to comfort her.

"None of us want to be here," Blaise explained, grabbing hold of the girl. "But we have to fight. It's either us or them."

It initially surprised Theodore when the two didn't immediately start dating after the war. Upon closer observation, they had a different kind of bond: a connection between friends, strengthened by the fact they had both been thrown into a war they did not want to fight. Unlike Draco and himself, Blaise and Pansy were entirely unsure of how to act during their one and only battle. They only knew how to depend on each other.

Theodore stepped out of his thoughts as he crossed the threshold of the library. He spotted the familiar faces of a Ravenclaw, two Hufflepuffs, and Madam Pince. The librarian watched him even closer now that the war was over, and her hawk-eyes never left his back as he chose a table to sit at. Taking out a book, some parchment, ink and a quill, Theodore kept his head low and continued his outside research on Salazar Slytherin's secret.


	2. Chapter 2

Theodore noticed Granger took great lengths to avoid him in the days following the Great Hall incident. It was annoying, to say the least, if only because she severely lacked tact. Whenever he would round a corner with her on the other side, she'd confuse her steps and fumble with her directions, muttering something to her friends and heading in the opposite direction. He would have found it funny if it didn't happen so often.

On his way to Arithmancy one afternoon, Theodore noticed Granger and her friends standing by the doorway. He sighed in annoyance. Potter walked away from the two girls as Theodore walked toward the classroom.

Granger visibly stiffened. Theodore noticed Weasley's hand on the Head Girl's arm as he shifted the strap of his bag to his other shoulder. "Weasley," Theodore said, eyeing the girls with an apathetic front. "Granger."

The former smiled slightly and said her goodbyes. Granger awkwardly said hello before finding her way to a seat. Theodore chose to sit down next to her. She thumbed her textbook absentmindedly.

"You need to stop," he said, without turning his head to face her.

Granger ceased moving. "_Excuse_ me?"

"You're always so flabbergasted around me," Theodore explained. "It doesn't suit you. And Merlin knows it bloody annoys the _hell_ out of me."

Granger sighed and he glanced at her as she ran a hand over her frizzy long hair. He briefly wondered how thick it was.

"It _is_ a bit silly," Granger admitted. "You just caught me off guard."

"How?"

"With that philosophical Slytherin diatribe back at the library," she said. "It…it made the slightest of sense."

Theodore looked to the front of the room and smirked. "Only the slightest?"

"Only the slightest," she echoed.

Their meetings remained neutral from then on. They would exchange nods, or smiles, or simple stares of familiarity while passing in the halls. It appeared as though she mentioned something about him to Potter and Weasley; Theodore could only guess at this because Weasley started to give him small smiles, and Potter simply didn't make eye-contact with him, anymore. A lessened amount of glares from the Golden Boy was _always_ a good thing in Theodore's book.

Even so, it surprised him when Granger caught up with him after class, one evening. She had practically run after him, with her bookbag slung over her shoulder sloppily, a pile of parchment and books in her arms. Her face was flushed and her hair was everywhere.

"Hi Nott," she said breathlessly.

Theodore almost smiled in spite of himself. He settled for raising his eyebrows. "Granger."

"Are you planning on hitting the library any time today?"

He nodded. "Probably an hour before curfew. Planning on doing a bit of outside research."

Her eyes lit up and he imagined she might have that same look on Christmas. "_Outside_ research?"

Theodore shifted his weight and placed his hands in his slacks' pockets. "Yeah."

"On what?" Granger prodded. "Maybe I can help. I've got a few moments free from my Head Girl duties today, so if you're going before curfew I could—"

"It…might not be your cup of tea, Granger," Theodore interrupted with a small grin. Her eyes widened.

"It's not…_dark_ magic, is it?"

He bit his tongue. With a sophisticated level of restraint, he chose to shrug in response before walking away nonchalantly. He missed the curious expression upon Granger's face.

Theodore made his way through the castle and a fresh, autumn breeze welcomed him upon exit. Free to roam with no more classes in the evening, he strolled towards the Hogwarts Lake, careful not to brush against any branches and tear his robes.

Pansy, Blaise, and Draco were sitting by the water—not too close, but close enough. A handful of other Slytherins from lower years surrounded them. _This has become one of our sanctuaries_, Theodore realized. He scanned the area and saw only a few other students from different houses around the lake. Slytherin, unlike during the hours within Hogwarts, was the majority here.

"They've already got Muggle Studies," Theodore overhead a distressed Pansy wail. "What _more_ do they want?!"

Blaise glanced at Theodore as he neared the group. "Did you hear what the Head Girl has been up to?"

"Unfortunately it's nothing naughty," Draco drawled, looking down at his tie. Theodore placed his bag on the grass and straightened his grey vest.

"She wants to add a Muggle Literature section in the library," Pansy exclaimed, as if it were the worst kind of torture she could think of.

Theodore raised an eyebrow. "You don't even use the library."

Draco shook his head. "That's not the point, Nott." He picked up a branch off the ground and fiddled with it. "Once you start answering the Mudbloods' war reprimands, it'll never stop."

"We'll have to keep decreasing our culture in order to make room for theirs," Pansy added.

"Either way, it doesn't look good for either side," Blaise said.

"A Muggle Literature section in the library would be just the tip of the iceberg."

"You can bet they'll start asking—"

"No, _demanding_—"

"—for Muggle technology."

"Accepting Muggle students into Hogwarts!"

"The end of magic!"

Theodore watched, a bit in awe, as his Slytherin counterparts swarmed together. It was the epitome of mob mentality. The conversation grew large and frantic; several students talked amongst themselves at the same time. What stunned Theodore was the fact that it wasn't only Slytherin students paying attention; a scattered number of people around the lake from other houses began closing in. They listened in on the frenzy, perhaps even agreeing with it.

Night closed in on the group. Theodore picked up his bag and stepped away from the loud talk, minding his business while keeping a close eye on them. His eyes moved upward and he noticed, for the first time in a long time, the darkened sky. The sun was behind them, now. There was a pale, light streak behind the clouds—a counterglow of the sun, Theodore remembered from Astronomy class. It was not bright. It was as if someone had slashed the sky itself and, unnoticed by mortals, the lackluster glow existed only to stained the night.

His attention returned to the mass of students by the lake. They began to walk back to the castle, conversing amongst themselves despite house discrimination. He could have sworn he saw Draco nodding to something a _Hufflepuff_ said. Theodore was surprised to find himself somewhat anxious on the behalf of Granger.

**x.x.x**

Supper in the Great Hall was not what Theodore expected. There was no thick tension, no mutterings about Muggles. No talk of Granger, either. He was beginning to suspect what he witnessed outside was just the start of a rumor. Besides, even Granger had to know that a Muggle Literature section in the library wouldn't do the least bit of good for anyone at Hogwarts.

After the war, there was the punishment. Theodore's own father passed away during some battle or another—Draco had overheard it while at the Manor and sent an owl to Theodore's desolate home. Draco's own father managed to get only a year in Azkaban; nothing, really, considering the variety of roles he played in according to the Dark Lord's plans. Pansy and Blaise's parents only had to pay retribution in the form of galleons. Considering how well-off both of their families are, it was hardly a problem.

After the punishment, there was the cleansing. It started very small. A lecture here or there at some wizarding institution about some new Muggle contraption. Author Weasley spearheading a new department at the Ministry concerned with the relationship between Muggles and Magic Persons. An article or two in the Daily Prophet demonizing another convicted Death Eater. Theodore was quite honestly surprised that he and the other offspring of Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers did not have to go through some kind of rigorous test in order to return to Hogwarts. Not that the Slytherin experience had been any less brutal following the aftermath of the war, of course.

Barely anything talk was brewing on the Slytherin side of the Great Hall. Theodore supposed everyone was lost in their thoughts, feeling a bit isolated after the revelation of a Muggle Literature section. It was like the Mudbloods and Muggle lovers were constantly picking at an unseen scab, forcing those who did not originally agree with blood-purity to retreat deeper into the comfortable area of hate. After all, Theodore mused bitterly, if they don't want you to join them, collect your own group and hate them from a distance. And isn't that exactly what some of the Slytherins, as well as a small group of students from other houses, were doing now?

Excusing himself from the table, Theodore wandered through the castle and headed for the dungeons. He whispered the password—even when he was alone, he whispered it; some habits of distrust would never melt away—and found his way to his dormitory. It took him only a few minutes to search through his personal collection of books and notes. When he found what he was looking for, he stuffed them into his bag without haste. By the time he made it into the library, it was a little after eight o'clock, and of course Granger was sitting at his table, in his spot, reading a book.

She looked up and spotted him. A small wave was issued, and Theodore got a chance to witness the bewildered look on Madam Pince's face. Perhaps being with Granger would prove to be worthwhile, after all; he would certainly have to thank her for lessening Pince's hawk-like glares.

"Granger," he said softly, placing his bag on the table and pulling up a seat next to her.

"Nott," she whispered in greeting, adhering to the unspoken rules within the quarter of books.

She tapped her quill against the desk while Theodore took out his things. She was curious about his research, he realized. Smirking to himself, he decided to let her dangle a little longer.

"What are you working on?" he asked without tearing his eyes away from his books.

"Just a side project," she responded flippantly.

Theodore didn't feel like taking the bait. "Is what they say true?"

She blinked. "What is what they say?"

He turned his full attention on to Granger, who looked weary about the next words to come out of his mouth. "You're petitioning for a Muggle Literature section, here in the library."

It came out as a statement rather than an intended question. Theodore hoped she would disprove its validity.

"Yes," Granger answered carefully, but with resolution. "I've been working on a draft of proposal for McGonagall. I plan on launching a full-scale campaign, much like with S.P.E.W., to gather my fellow students' support."

He wanted to mention the good S.P.E.W. did, what with the no one caring bit, but thought better of it. There was a shift between them, almost immediately. Something in the air transitioned from an awkward, friendly level to something very cold, professional and distant. He strung together his words thoughtfully. "Why do we need Muggle Literature in the Wizarding world?"

Granger sighed and shifted in her seat. Quietly, she responded, "there's so much hypocrisy surrounding the Wizarding community, especially now that Voldemort is dead and his followers dismantled." She eyed him to judge his reaction. When he gave none, she continued. "People who are against that sort of prejudiced thinking, against notions such as mudblood and pureblood, still follow those conventions without thinking too much about it."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, just because people fought against Voldemort, doesn't mean they necessarily agree with the idea that Muggles are equal to Witches and Wizards."

Theodore blinked. "That's because they aren't."

"Why not?"

He turned his body toward her and fiddled with his tie. "We're superior. We've got magical capabilities which far exceed normal Muggle powers."

"But aren't we all human?"

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Bollocks. One type of human is quite obviously better than the other." He paused to look at her. "Wouldn't you rather hold onto your powers as a witch, than simply exist as a Muggle?"

"Why can't I be both?"

"What do you mean, both?" he accidentally blurted out, the tradition of thinking before speaking escaping him. "You can't be both. You're either one or the other."

"Or you're mixed," Granger persisted. "Isn't that what a Mudblood is? Someone from the Muggle community, who happens to possess an affinity and ability for magic."

He shook his head. "I don't see how introducing Muggle Literature into Hogwarts will do us any good."

"We've got to learn about the traditions and cultures of others, right?" Granger offered enthusiastically. "This'll give some student a chance to go beyond their comfort zone and embrace something different than what they're used to."

"But we don't even exist to Muggles."

"Because we choose not to!"

"And with good reason. You want the era of witch hunting to come back?"

Granger huffed. "The practice of witch hunting was merely an excuse for misogynistic exploits, rather than the actual search for magical—"

Their conversation came to a halt when Madam Pince came to their table. "Ten minutes till curfew," she noted before heading to the back of the library. Theodore took the opportunity to glance around the area; he and Granger were the only students left.

"Drat," Granger said, upon realization of the time. "I've got to go organize the prefects."

Theodore stretched out in his chair. "Isn't that why there's two heads? So that you don't get your knickers in a twist over all your duties?"

Granger suppressed a smile. "Boot doesn't nearly take his responsibilities nearly as serious as I do," she answered, packing her things. "As a result, I get a lot more assignments."

"I'm sure," he smirked. Theodore stood and arranged his reading material into his bag. Casually, he added, "are there any Slytherin prefects?"

Her movements slowed as she thought it over. Her silence gave Theodore the answer straight away. "Now that I think about it," she said. "No…no, I don't think so."

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Theodore shrugged. "Figures. What with the hypocrisy and prejudice you've been going on about."

She brought her hand to her hip, ready to retort. Nothing came. Theodore brought two fingers to his head and gave her a small salute before sauntering out.


	3. Chapter 3

Theodore sat without moving. To the untrained observer, it would appear that he was staring into thin air, as if in a brain-dead trance, not paying much attention to anything. On the off-beat occasion Draco found his way to this part of the library, he would take a rather heavy book off the shelves and plop it right down on the table in front of Theodore, shaking him from the eerie reverie.

He wasn't simply lost in his thoughts, however. Theodore remained motionless as he absorbed word for word from the book in front of him. No attention was paid to his immediate surroundings. It was strange; sometimes, he would cease reading and simply follow the curvatures and strokes of the type and calligraphy on the page. _Perhaps_, he thought to himself, _there was something unequivocally enchanting when it came to personalizing each sentence, each word, each letter with one's own unique style of penmanship_. Whether it be through a quill and ink or using letter-press and movable type, Theodore wondered about the effort each book maker took to create a beautiful succession of lines and pages.

There was a rumor about Muggles being able to instantly produce books, articles, newspapers, essays—"with the click of some button," a random Hufflepuff had said. Something put Theodore off with that knowledge; how could one translate their own esscence onto paper or parchment without using ink, or pressing the hand to the page, or becoming one with the writing?

It was with these thoughts in mind that Pansy found him. She pulled up a chair and sat across from him. He remained obvious; soaked up in his own space that he did not bother to register someone had joined him. With an obnoxious cough, Pansy drew his attention away from his inner-world and to her. She smiled rather maliciously, a very Slytherin undertone to her glee, and Theodore realized he had to step especially carefully.

"What?" Pansy asked innocently, the grin still on her face.

Theodore continued to stare. "You're _never_ in the library."

She shrugged. "Can't a girl just stop by and say hi to—"

"No."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Theo. I'm here to talk."

"Bollocks. You don't 'talk'."

"Maybe not to you," she responded, and he knew she was hinting at Blaise. "But today I feel like gossiping…and things just so happen to revolve around you."

She stood up and grabbed hold of his upper arm. Dragging him forcefully to his feet, he made a strange noise; something between a whimper and an unpleasant gurgle.

"My books—"

"Will be exactly where you left them," Pansy interrupted. "Seriously, Theo, who even goes this deep into the library? They'll recognize your Slytherin territory and leave it alone."

She pulled him through the library. A puzzled look on Madam Pince's face followed them out. Theodore snatched his arm back and released himself from her vice-like grip. He straightened his top, trying to earn a bit of his dignity back. "I hope you're not punishing me for telling Draco about your fantasy concerning him and Blaise—"

Pansy whirled around. "You _what_!?"

Theodore shifted his eyes and looked everywhere except for Pansy's face. She pointed an accusatory finger into his chest. "_You_ owe me drinks, Nott. I can't believe you overheard that. And told him!" She shook her head and her mood instantly changed. "Let's find an empty classroom."

She turned away from him and headed down the hall. "Can't we just talk here?" Theodore asked. A bit of sarcasm fell off his tongue as he added, "you know, like normal people?"

"Are you daft?" she responded over her shoulder, looking inside each passing room. "With news this good—and about a Gryffindor, no less—I can't risk it."

Theodore held in the urge to sigh. When Pansy got excited…she got excited. There was no way around it, and no way to beat it down into submission. He picked up his pace and caught up with her. She zoomed into an empty classroom on their right. Theodore casually looked around the corridor to see if anyone was watching.

While rolling her eyes, Pansy reached over and grabbed him by the tie. "Come _on_!" She tugged him into the room and he stumbled forward.

The door shut. They were in the dark. With a wordless spell, Theodore lit only a few of the candles around the room. A soft, warm light echoed off the walls and onto the shadows of himself and Pansy. He looked at her as the light flickered against her face, this way and that, riding against the strange curves of her neckline, her jaw, her cheekbones. It was strange and off-putting, to see Pansy in what had the potential to be an intimate moment. She was attractive, no doubt, but Theodore did not feel himself stir. He wondered, rather apathetically, if he would ever find company that could make his knees weak, his stomach full of butterflies, his palms strangely sweaty. Theodore couldn't remember if he had _ever_ been with anyone who could make those kind of clichés happen.

"You'll never guess who I overheard talking in the girl's lavatory just a few minutes ago," Pansy said as she took a seat at one of the tables. She didn't wait for him to guess. "Granger and Weasley!"

Theodore showed no interest in her outburst of information. He hopped on a table, put his elbow to his knee and leaned his head against his closed hand in boredom. He blinked.

Pansy sighed rather loudly. "I guess we'll start easy, then," she said. "Do you think Granger is fit?"

He furrowed his brows in response and straightened his back. "What?"

"You know," she said, her hands moving in various directions as she talked, "pretty, sexy, beautiful, good enough to shag—"

"I know what it means, Pansy," Theodore snapped, insulted by her patronizing attitude. "I'm just curious as to _why_ you want to know if I think the Princess of Gryffindor is fit."

"Just answer the question, Theo."

He squirmed, but only slightly. Pansy knew him well enough to take it as a good sign. "So that's a yes?"

"She's … well enough looking, I suppose," Theodore offered. "I haven't really thought of her like that."

"You probably haven't thought of _any_ of us like that," Pansy smirked.

He let out a small, derisive chuckle because it was true. "Can't blame a bloke," he murmured. "There's such slim pickings at a school like Hogwarts—"

Pansy gave a genuine laugh and reached over to smack him lightly on the leg. "Theo, be serious for a moment. And by serious, I mean seriously, don't think. Just answer." She leaned forward and rested her chin on her clasped hands. "Would you ever snog Granger?"

Theodore folded his arms over his chest, not feeling comfortable with openly discussing his wants and desires. At least it was Pansy interrogating him, and not Blaise or Draco. "What did you overhear Granger and Weasley saying?"

The strategy worked. Pansy forgot about whatever path she was currently on and leapt straight into her longwinded story. Theodore barely listened at first; something about her and Blaise walking back to the dungeons, making out, having to use the loo, deciding to go to one of the nicer lavatories in the castle, and not wanting to leave the stall while two Gryffindors who possibly hated her were washing their hands and talking. Pansy ended up with her feet on the toilet, perched up so they couldn't see her, as she waited for them to leave. Theodore fought the urge to interrupt her; he knew, immediately, that Pansy was hiding her actual motives. The Pansy he had come to know—not in the carnal sense, but still—would have never, in a million years, pass up the opportunity to bully or tease two goody-goody Gryffindors in passing. He decided not to mention anything and tried to listen as she rambled on.

"And so the Weaslette started complaining about Draco," she continued, enraptured by her own recapturing of the moment. "How even on the Quidditch pitch, he was more nasty and hurtful to her whenever the two teams walked by each other…you know, for practice? Anyway, she was saying something about how Draco never misses the opportunity to scream out something about someone, particularly her, when Granger stopped her and asked why the war didn't make him change _any_ kind of heart.

"The Weaslette said something about Draco not having a heart to begin with, and they laughed before the redhead said something ridiculously obtuse about Slytherins always being slimy, evil, yadda yadda yadda."

"Nothing we haven't heard before," Theodore added.

Pansy smirked. "The weird part was Granger, though."

A silence settled between them. He was forced to speak. "What about Granger?" he asked, hating how Pansy deliberately delayed information vital to the understanding of what the bloody hell she was even talking about.

"Well," Pansy drawled. "She kind of hesitated and said that she doesn't think _all_ Slytherins are heartless."

Theodore felt his heart begin to pound lightly. He knew exactly where this was going, and he didn't like Pansy's instigations one bit.

"Then Weasley said, "Oh, yeah? Name one git from Slytherin who doesn't fancy you dead?" And Granger kind of shuffled around before saying, "Theodore Nott"."

Theodore inwardly groaned. Leave it up to a Gryffindor to cast some kind of light of goodness onto his shadow; his very much preferred shadow, where those he didn't want to know—namely, in this case, Weasley—knew absolutely nothing about him, in return.

It was no wonder Pansy was here, right now, manipulating her story in an attempt to squeeze an answer out of him. Theodore should have seen it coming. He mentally prepared himself for the worse kind of verbal flogging which went hand-in-hand with associating with Gryffindors.

"So Weasley kind of gave off this strange start, like she was surprised or something. Then I guess she remembered that bit in the Great Hall, where Draco teased Granger about wanting to shag you."

"I can briefly recall."

"Then she asks Granger if she likes you. And so she says, "Yeah, I like him…I mean, we study together in the library sometimes. And he's nice to me during class." You can imagine the look on Weasley's face when she says that—"

"Look?" Theodore prodded innocently. "But I thought you were in the stall, door closed? How were you able to see Weasley's expression?"

Pansy grinned, eyes lighting up with mischief. "I could never pull one over you, Theo. But really, back to the story, because that's not important. What is important is that Granger admitted that she wondered what it would be like to snog with you."

Theodore stared. Pansy, he realized, could be extremely girlish and immature at times. He really didn't understand it, but at the same time, he really didn't care. _That's what makes her Pansy_, he thought to himself. It made her all the more dangerous to talk to, seeing as her girlish charm—_for lack of a better word_—could disarm anyone.

"Why was it so important to tell me this?" he asked her as he stood up.

"I want to know what's going on," Pansy said.

"There's nothing to gossip about," he responded, heading for the door. She followed him. "Really, Pans. I would know."

"Then what's the game?" Pansy asked nonchalantly. A spark of inquisitiveness lit up almost instantly in her eyes. "Does it have to do with the Salazar secret you're researching? Are you using her just as a pawn for research?"

Theodore opened the door, but did not step out of the room. "Why would you ask that?"

She strode up to him and fastened his loose tie. "Not sure if you've noticed lately," she said, "but you _are_ a Slytherin."

"I've got no plans with Granger," he snapped a bit aggressively.

Pansy blinked dumbly, as if trying to see him for the first time under new lights. "So you really aren't playing her for something?"

"What would I play her for?"

She began to get hostile. "I don't know, Nott. Anything! I mean, it's one thing to hang out with the know-it-all Mudblood when you've got some sort of plan. It's another thing entirely to do it just for shits and giggles."

Theodore started toward the library. He didn't hear Pansy following him. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

As soon as he stepped into the library, something felt off. He rushed as calmly as possible to his place at the back, and there it was. Granger was, once again, at his table. In his seat. _Reading_ his notes, his books. Invading his personal space; or at least, the space he had become so attached to the last seven or so years of school.

She must have heard him coming, because she looked up in a panic. He would have chuckled to himself if he weren't furious. First Pansy and her nonsensical attack on his budding relationship with Granger. Now Granger herself and her deer-in-the-headlights stare as she's fishing through his parchment.

"Granger." It came out unexpectedly when he reached her. She was looking up at him, unmoving, staring sheepishly. He didn't recognize his own voice for a split-second. Her name came out in a strange, low growl. He hoped he was the only one who noticed.

"Hi, Nott," she said rather meekly. Theodore wasn't use to the Head Girl being so quiet and shy. Then again, he rarely caught her examining his belongings when he was nowhere to be found.

He remained standing, looking down at her. Her gaze flickered back and forth between his stare and his open books. It wasn't long before the need to babble broke her down.

"I'm sorry," Granger blurted, breaking away from his gaze and motioning at the books. "I knew this was your area, and I knew you had to be in the loo or behind the stacks. I came, sat down, and I really didn't intend for anything to fall. It's just, when I set my bag down, some of your notes…"

She trailed off into silence and Theodore ran a hand through his hair before sitting down beside her. "Fine, Granger." He turned towards her. "You've got to swear you won't tell anyone about this."

He began collecting his things. She helped him.

"_Now_ can I help you unearth Salazar Slytherin's secret society?"

**x.x.x.**

**  
**It was the end to a long week. Pansy must have distilled her suspicions about Theodore and presented them to Blaise and Draco, because even they began to ask him about Granger. The truth was he didn't want to be bothered by things that seemed insignificant in the long run. Who cared if Granger was helping him piece together the past? What did it matter if he and Granger took to talking frequently during class? Hogwarts would let out in a several months and they'd both graduate, heading off in completely different directions.

Draco had taken to cornering him in his own dormitory room the night before. He asked Theodore why he had been seeing a lot of Gryffindor attached to his arm, lately.

"We're not attached, you prat," Theodore grumbled as he put his bag on the floor.

"Oh?" Draco piped. "That's odd. I could have sworn you two were connected at the hip, seeing as she's always by your side when we pass you in the halls."

"Sod off, Draco."

"So Pansy was right. You _do_ fancy the Mudblood."

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Just because we're friends, doesn't mean we're anything alike. I don't automatically feel like snogging every girl who displays the least bit of interest in me."

Draco stepped up to Theodore as the latter undid his tie. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Theodore simply tossed his tie onto his bed and turned away from the blond. He lifted his sweater over his head and began unbuttoning his white-collar long-sleeve. Draco walked to the door, but didn't leave.

"Might want to be there when your girlfriend unveils her newest Muggle Literature gimmick," he mentioned without feeling.

"Of course I'll be there," Theodore asked in his dangerously playful tone. "Always a treat seeing the smugness wiped clean off of your face."

Draco left the room and Theodore closed his door. Undoing his belt, his mind wandered to Granger and he shook his head. It was going to be a long weekend, what with her Muggle demonstration by the lake and all.

She had mentioned the idea of a presentation to Theodore earlier in the week.

"It'll certainly bring a crowd, no matter what their feelings are," Granger argued enthusiastically. "And if I could just get them to see that parts of Muggle culture aren't as bad as they've been led to believe, I'm sure the rest of the students will be up for a little less tension between Purebloods and Mudbloods and Muggles."

Theodore laughed in spite of himself. "Whatever you say."

She touched his arm and stared at him intently. "You'll come, right?"

"Come where?"

"I'm not sure of the location, but I mean to the demonstration," she said. "When I show the students what Muggles are capable of making."

He didn't promise her anything. He didn't outright refuse, either.

Theodore was not surprised, then, to find himself on that Saturday night walking to the Hogwarts Lake. The sky was cloudy and there were hardly any stars. The moon was new and made the night sag heavily. Theodore wondered about the darkness, why Granger had chosen this night, of all the autumn nights, to display her Muggle talents.

When he arrived, there was a rather large crowd. He made his way to the front by creeping along the edge of the crowd, circling until he arrived at a clear view. Granger and the other Head, some Ravenclaw Theodore barely knew, were standing at the front. The Ravenclaw was silent, but Granger was animated and brought life to the deadened night as she spoke to the professors and the Headmistress. The half-breed giant was by her side; so was Potter and Weasley. Weasley's older brother, the one who was part of the Golden Trio, was also there. Theodore smirked to himself as he imagined the type of conversation that forced Weasley back to the school grounds.

A thought appeared out of nowhere and took hold of him, sinking itself into his skin. Did Granger's friends know about him? Did she tell them about their meetings at the library, their time in class together? He knew she would never tell them about their research on the secret society—leave it up to Gryffindors to stay loyal as them come, regardless of who that loyalty was to. Theodore remembered Weasley had a temper. It unnerved him when he realized that he would rather face the angry redhead than abandon whatever had developed between himself and Granger. She made the time pass, especially now that Pansy and Draco were avoiding him—Blaise, too, but mostly because of Pansy.

Silence settled over the crowd. Theodore took out his pocket watch; exactly thirty minutes until curfew. Of course Granger would manage to hold a spectacle within the limits of Hogwarts' rules.

Theodore watched as she magically amplified her voice and spoke among the crowd. Even booming, he didn't listen to her words. He simply watched. Observed the way her robes glided back and forth as she moved. How her hair was everywhere, but it probably kept her head and ears warm, anyway. The way she didn't have those inane and girlish hand gestures like Pansy, but had developed something much more professional and mature. He noticed her rapport with the crowd was quite enchanting.

Suddenly, the trees around them began to glow. Theodore's eyes widened in slight surprise as he glanced from one tree to the next. There were strange little circles of lights—patches, really—and they blinked on and off. They were brighter than some of the stars Theodore had seen. The small circles of light was harsh on his eyes but they had a strange magical quality to them. They blinked in rapid succession, some unsolvable puzzle Theodore had no idea how to decode. There were various colors, as well, and he guessed that was what captivated him the most. The lights were not simply white, or orange like flames. They were unnatural, alien. Blue, like aquamarine mermaids. Green, and not Slytherin green, but something with much more light attached to it, like limes and grapes from the Great Hall feasts. Red, like freshly-picked strawberries; the ripe kind his mother used to harvest when he was young. Yellow, like the kind you would use if you wanted to paint some disgustingly happy landscape.

Students left and right were making noises of strange satisfaction. "Ooohs" and "aaahs" filled the crowd and Theodore had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from joining the heard.

"How did you do this? Is it magic?"

"What's the source? Where does it start?"

"Does it burn?"

"How do you stop it? How do you turn it on?"

"Can it go on forever?"

"Can I touch it?"

Questions were thrown into the night air and even Theodore was curious. He watched intently as Granger silenced the crowd and began explaining…something about Christmas lights, about artificial lights. More about potatoes and potions and wires and elec-tris-sit-tee. Theodore looked around him and noted the reflection of those lights upon the faces of his peers. The scene was drastically different from the one he had witnessed a few weeks ago, where the cry against the Muggle Literature section had started in the first place. He briefly wondered if Draco was among those in the crowd, or if Pansy could see the lights from the Astronomy Tower as she made out with Blaise. He chuckled and imagined the looks on their faces upon seeing these elec-tris-sit Christmas lights from afar. The things probably look like charmed fireflies, dancing in the trees.

Theodore turned toward Granger once more, enjoying her obvious glee. Something inside of him warmed and glowed at her expression of excitement. The presentation was a success, from the looks of the crowd. She had managed to convince even him of the possible magic found within Muggles and their technology.**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Draco's sneer was the first thing to greet Theodore when he came back to the dungeons. Theodore had managed to slip away from the Muggle lights display while Granger and her minions were busy. The students and professors were probably still out there; gathered by the lights, navigating around the lake, enraptured by Granger and her show and tell.

Theodore couldn't afford to stay there any longer than necessary. He didn't like crowds. He didn't do group activities. And he certainly didn't partake in anything extracurricular. As he made his way back to the inside of the castle, he wondered if Granger had spotted him in the crowd during her presentation.

"Enjoy the fairy show, then?" Draco called out as Theodore passed him.

"Give it a rest, Draco."

Theodore came to a stop, surprised to hear Blaise's voice defending him. Blaise did not look away from the flames of the fireplace. His brown complexion, illuminated by the heat, seemed to glow softly. _Blaise had always been contemplative,_ Theodore thought.

Draco appeared to be thinking the same thing. "Something on your mind, Zabini?"

He turned away from the fire, hands in his pockets. Facing Theodore and the blond Slytherin, Blaise sighed. "Granger offered me a prefect position."

Theodore raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. Draco's exaggerated jaw-drop did enough to portray his disbelief. "_What_?"

Blaise ran a hand over his head. He let it rest on the back of his neck. "She told me to think about it. Gave me a week before I give her my answer."

"Heads can assign prefects?" Theodore asked.

Draco snorted. "_Granger_ can assign prefects."

The underlying message in his retort did not go unnoticed by Theodore. He stiffened slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

"You know bloody well what I'm trying to say," Draco all but growled. "That Mudblood bitch has got everyone in this blasted hellhole under her thumb." He began listing maniacally. "The professors, the other Head, McGonagall, every single student listens to her—"

"That's what happens when you're a Head," Theodore drawled.

"—I wouldn't put it past the Ministry to be sucking up to her once we graduate," Draco continued, unfazed. "She'll be running the Wizarding world into the ground with her mad Muggle rhetoric."

"You know," Blaise teased, "she probably _could_ get away with something as loony as that."

Draco plopped onto the couch and glared. "Are you going to say yes?"

Blaise's arm dropped back to his side. Theodore decided to fill in the silence. "Why not? You get good grades. One of the more respected Slytherins. Was part of that ridiculous Slug Club—"

"Still bitter, Nott?"

Theodore smirked.

"Isn't like you missed anything," Blaise said. A sly grin crept onto his face. "'Cept Potter pissing his knickers over Weasley every time she came in."

"I heard McLaggen was all over Granger that year," Draco said, watching Theodore carefully.

"Keeping tabs on two-year gossip, are we?" Theodore answered nonchalantly.

Blaise shifted slightly and tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. "The Carrow twins hated those dinner parties. I remember one time—"

"Oh, come off it, Nott," Draco interrupted, standing up. "Just admit you fancy that sexless, bushy-haired know-it-all!"

Theodore stared. "You're obsessed, mate. I'm starting to think _you_ have a thing for Granger."

With that, he sauntered off to his room. He closed the door and disrobed quickly. A flash of his reflection in Draco's large-scale vanity mirror caught his attention. Most boys in Hogwarts didn't have any type of mirror in their room—hell, most _girls_ didn't have such an extravagant tool, either—but this was Draco's room, as well. He was perhaps the most compulsive and obsessive when it came to being impeccable in the physical attraction department; much more than Theodore or Blaise, anyway.

Theodore looked at his reflection, eyes glued to the faded mark on his left wrist. He made a motion to hide it, to shield his forearm from the mirror, but hesitated. Instead, his hand found its way to the base of the dark pattern. Grazing over it with only two fingertips, a tingle shot through him and climbed down his arm.

_Can you imagine?_ Granger had said. _Having to constantly cover it up when you walk down the street?_ It was one of the first words they had exchanged, and still her presumptuous nature shined through. Theodore didn't have to imagine anything; he covered it up every day.

**x.x.x**

_You never told me what you thought of the Christmas lights._

It was Monday, which means Theodore was trapped in Arithmancy with Granger by his side. She had passed him a folded piece of parchment with her handwriting etched into its surface.

He skimmed over the note and chose not to glance at her, even though he could feel her staring at him from the corner of her eye. Instead, he tapped once, twice on the desk with his quill before responding.

"I was there, if that's what you're asking," Theodore whispered.

Granger huffed and took the parchment back. She madly began scribbling in a way which had become familiar to him. He was very well acquainted with her borderline possessed note-taking skills during their time in the library.

She pushed the note back to him and brought her attention to the front of the class. He wondered why she always sat next to him. He preferred the back of the class; she liked to sit in the front. Usually, they compromised by wordlessly choosing a table off-center and in the middle.

_Don't be silly. I saw you there, what I want to know is what you _thought_ of it._

Theodore turned his head slightly and caught her gaze. "I was impressed," he said softly. "You—it was brilliant. Magical, even. I'd pay to see the next Muggle invention you present."

Granger grinned widely and he had to look away. She reached for his balled fist and encased it in her hand. He felt her squeeze gently before she retreated into her goody-goody student role. Theodore let his fist unwind and tried to focus on the text in front of him.

The pair traveled immediately to the library after class. It was one the first time they openly walked together somewhere, Theodore realized, and their classmates were definitely taking notice. He pulled at his tie awkwardly and stared straight ahead.

"Feeling alright, Nott?"

He nodded once. Granger gave slight grin and Theodore could tell she was skeptical of his answer. "You don't like it," she said. "The attention."

"It's not the attention," Theodore muttered, his pace increasing. "They're judging us."

"Judging us?" Granger echoed. "How do you mean?"

_They're trying to figure us out,_ Theodore wanted to say. _Why someone like you is with someone like me_. He bit his tongue and walked on, Granger a few steps behind him.

As they rounded a corner, Theodore nearly ran into Potter. _Just my luck_, he thought bitterly as Granger joined them.

"Hi Hermione," Potter said, still looking at Theodore.

"Hey Harry," she answered. "Didn't Ginny tell you? I'm going to hit the library before supper. She said you two had some plans for wandering around the grounds—"

"Right," he said distractedly. He turned away from Theodore. "Hermione, would you mind if Nott met you at the library? I wanted to talk to him for a moment."

Theodore watched as Granger swelled in fury. "Harry," she exclaimed rather harshly. "I already _told_ you and Ron. I'm fine. Now _go_!"

Potter stood his ground. Granger instantly switched tactics. "Anything you have to say to Theo, you can say in front of me."

It was the first time he heard her use his name. He kept a straight face and stared at Potter. Either the Scarhead had grown, or Theodore simply hadn't noticed how wide his shoulders got. Still, he was thankful he wasn't facing the other Weasley. Theodore unconsciously straightened his posture as Potter took a step toward him. He could tell the Golden Boy was rethinking his words, due to Granger's presence.

"Hermione claims you aren't slipping her potions, or using _imperius_ on her," Potter said, "but when we find out you are—" Granger coughed and Potter stopped. "If we find out you are, you're as good as dead."

Theodore stood his ground. "That it, Potter?"

The Gryffindor narrowed his eyes at him before saying goodbye to Granger and walking off.

"Sorry about that," Granger said. "They think you're up to something."

A sarcastic sound found its way out of Theodore's throat. "Obviously."

They made their way to the library and sat at their designated table. Wordlessly, they took out their books and parchment and evaporated into their own readings. The pair was like this for some time before Granger blinked and looked up.

"Do you think they'll put Voldemort in the history books?"

Theodore dragged himself away from the book in front of him. He closed it softly and stared at her. "Doubt it," Theodore said. "Or they'll just sort of brush over this period, as if he was a small blemish on a prettier history."

She blinked, the expression on her face disagreeing with his sentiment. "Then what are you doing here? What's the point in all this research? Why are you trying to prove that Salazar Slytherin created a secret society where it was practically encouraged to maintain sexual relations with Muggles?"

"Why are you?"

Granger exhaled and brushed her lengthy hair back from her face. "It'll alter history," she said. "It'll change perceptions—especially about pure bloods, if we can even call it that."

"You should know attitudes don't shift overnight," Theodore pointed out.

She only grinned. "I know. That's why it's best to sort this Salazar mess out as soon as we can." Granger stopped and held a contemplative look on her face. He was tempted to ask her what she was thinking.

A silence between them passed. "Who else knows about this?" Granger finally asked.

"About us?"

"About the secret society research."

Theodore shifted in his seat, slightly embarrassed. "No one. Me, you, Blaise, Pansy, Draco. Only Blaise really asks about it, though."

She nodded slowly and drummed her fingers against an open book. "There's another connection that might be useful."

He turned his attention to her fully. "What do you have?"

"Well," she started, "in the Muggle world, science claims we're made of something called genes. Biology is based on genetics; the passing of parents' genes into the offspring." She searched his face for some sign of familiarity. When he nodded, she continued on. "Attraction to someone based on their biological scent—their smell without perfumes or potions—means that his or her genes are significantly different from your own. There's less of a risk for spawning a child out of incest. It's why siblings always hate each other's smell."

"Nature takes control of our response to desire," Theodore interpreted, "in order to keep future generations as diverse as possible." Revelation dawned on him. "That matches what this text says about the society's rule for Muggle mating," he mused. "The sweeter the scent of the Muggle, the greater possibility for magical offspring."

Granger leaned toward him and glanced at the line he was pointing at. "Exactly," she breathed excitedly. "Salazar's society understood why the quote 'bad blood' of Muggles proved to actually be good blood," she continued. "This society needed Muggles for mating so that their gene pools wouldn't be stale and diluted with similar blood."

He took the chance and looked at her. She was smiling brightly. "Amazing, isn't it?" she said. "How often the magical world comes full circle with the Muggle world?"

"Yeah," Theodore answered honestly. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"We're really making progress," Granger said as she closed a book.

Theodore smirked. "You still believe in progress?"

She looked up in confusion. "Don't you?"

He shrugged. "Humans travel in circles. We make the same mistakes, repeat the same patterns. We like to think we've learned from history, that we'll do better next time—if there is a next time," Theodore added. "But we don't. We never do."

She considered his words in seriousness. "You think something—someone like Voldemort—would happen in the future?"

He sighed. "I think something like the Dark Lord has happened, just happened, and probably will happen again."

"But there's nothing in the history books about any type of Muggle or Muggle-born purging."

Theodore laughed quietly. "There's nothing in the history books about this, either," he said, pointing to the books around them.

"Touché." Granger packed up her things, and Theodore followed suit. She lead the way out of the library and into the corridor. They usually parted here and entered the Great Hall separately.

Something held them there, if only for a moment. Theodore shifted his bag's strap from shoulder to shoulder. Granger sighed.

"But don't you think," she argued, "patterns can be broken?"

He gave her a quizzical look.

"Circles," she established. "Not everything goes around and around forever." She smiled a bit sardonically, and he wondered—not for the first time that day—what was going on in her head. "Some things are meant to be broken."

Theodore grinned mischievously. "A spot of rebelliousness from the Head Girl?"

She laughed. "All that running around with Harry and Ron all these years."

With a wave, Granger turned and headed for the Great Hall. Theodore waited a moment before walking in the other direction, in a relatively pleasant mood.


	5. Chapter 5

Theodore leaned back in his chair, balancing on its two hind legs. Granger was buried in a book that looked foreign; possibly Muggle. It was of the non-musty variety, and had a shiny cover.

"Personal collection?"

Granger waited a second to finish whatever sentence she was on before responding. A decorative string bookmarked her resting spot. "My parents sent it by post. It's Muggle."

Theodore carefully concealed his surprise. "Your parents post by owl?"

She nodded. "My father had been eyeing the owls in Diagon Alley the summer before fifth year. I got them one for Christmas."

Granger looked at him expectantly as he leaned forward. His chair landed with a graceful _thump_. "I think that's pretty brill, Granger."

She smiled and chuckled softly. "It would be rather strange if a postman wandered around the Wizarding World delivering the post by hand."

"Muggles issue men and not animals to drop off the post?"

"Well, it's a career choice," she explained. "And it's not just men; women can deliver post, too."

Theodore briefly wondered how the postmen and women traveled around the Muggle world. Did they use those strange automobiles? How did they travel across the ocean? When he was younger, he remembered his father told him a Muggle ship had been attacked by pure bloods. Were there ships full of post just floating around the world, unseen by witches and wizards?

He decided not to share his inquires and change the subject. "Feel like taking a break?"

"Depends," Granger said. "Are you going to keep reading up on the society?"

He shook his head. "Don't want all those depressing diary entries swarming around in my head tonight."

"That's when a telly really comes in handy," she chuckled.

A look of realization came upon him. "Yeah…yeah, I've heard of those. Muggle metallic box things."

Granger let out a loud, genuine laugh. Theodore resisted the urge to peak down the rows and check for Madam Pince. He was glad they always sat deep at the edge of the library, where they could avoid traditional rules like silence. "That's one way to put it," she said, catching her breath. "Remind me to introduce you to a television one day."

"Can't you bring one to Hogwarts?"

"There's no power outlets, and it's going to take a lot more than a couple potatoes and some scientific potions to turn a telly on. Not to mention, we probably couldn't get any channel reception!"

He nodded as though he understood what she was saying. It was strange, how ignorant he was on the subject. He didn't like being the one who couldn't mentally keep up.

A small moment of quiet reflection passed between them. Granger sat up straight and tapped the parchment with her pen. "I just realized," she said as she fumbled for her bag, "I have to get this to Madam Pince. I promised her some fantastic Muggle reads I thought she might enjoy."

Theodore watched as she pulled out several books. She muttered something about punctuality before quickly making her way to the front of the library, hair swaying behind her.

Suddenly, it hit him. He liked her hair. He liked the way it moved and bounced; even the way it smelled. Its scent always entered his vicinity whenever Granger would plop down into her seat, babbling on about some random Head duty holding her up.

And then it hit him. Again. It was a force headed straight for his chest, akin to what he imagined a _stupefy_ might feel like. Peculiar, the thing between he and Granger. Theodore never gave their relationship any casual thought. Their situation had transformed unnoticed by him: all those afternoons and nights in the library, the days sitting together in class, an occasional stroll through Hogwarts' halls. Did Granger even _need_ to spend this much time around him?

He heard her footsteps before he saw her. As the click of her flats hit the floor and heightened in volume, Theodore stilled his movement. He held in a breath. Stared at the table. The books. Anything.

"Ready to head out, Nott?"

Theodore raised his head and looked—_really_ looked—at Granger. What did Pansy overhear the Gryffindor saying? She had told Wealsey that she liked him, which was fine because he'd come to like her well enough. He was usually such an expert when it came to reading people. Was he missing something?

"Theo? Theodore, did you hear me?"

He blinked. Granger stood with a slightly confused expression on her face, hands upon her hips.

"Leaving sounds good," Theodore said finally. He stood up and stretched. "I've had about all the research I can take."

"Come off it. You love reading almost as much as I do."

"True," he said. "But it's Friday." Theodore glanced down and fiddled with his tie. "Speaking of which…shouldn't you be out with your friends? Where's Potter and Weasley?"

Granger shrugged. "Probably on the pitch, practicing. And anyway, I thought _we_ were friends."

He felt his mouth shift into a lopsided grin and hoped she didn't notice. The pair packed up their things and Granger waved to Madam Pince as they exited. Without any classes to rush to, they walked at a slow pace. No destination was planned, but Theodore didn't mind.

"It's windy outside," Granger murmured as they made their outside. Everything was caressed by autumn winds. Theodore's strangled mess of hair went every which way, but it was nothing compared to Granger's. The end of her scarf flew into her face. She smothered it into the confines of her robes.

Suddenly, Granger bounced up and down and pointed off into the distance. "Oh, look! Kites!"

"Rather elaborate looking ones," Theodore said warily.

"Someone must have bought a few in Chinatown."

"Chinatown?"

"The one in London," Granger responded absentmindedly. He assumed it was a Muggle thing. "Come on, let's go!"

She started towards them. Theodore, a little less enthusiastic, hung back.

"What's wrong?"

He shrugged, put his hands in his pockets. Watched the trees sway. "I'm not interested in kites. Kind of childish."

She barked out a disbelieving laugh. Her eyebrows raised in a challenge. "Don't tell me you're _scared_, Theo? Of flying a kite?"

Theodore scowled. Something about the way she said his name combined with her bait prompted him into action. They followed the kites and saw two Gryffindor figures in the distance. Granger waved to them immediately.

"Seamus! Dean!"

The two called her name and started to wave. They stopped when they noticed Theodore's Slytherin attire blowing in the wind. Granger wasn't perturbed. She grabbed hold of Theodore by his upper left arm, and he had no choice but to follow her. _At least Potter isn't here_, he thought to himself, trying to lighten his mood.

"Oi, Hermione," Finnigan said cheerfully.

"Nott," Thomas stated in a careful but neutral tone.

Theodore nodded once. His interest turned back to the kites against the sky. Now that he was much closer, he could make out its exact shape and colors. They were both crafted in the form of a bird, something like a Phoenix. Paper ribbons draped from its tail, and a variety of colored textures made up a substantial part of its wide-span wings. Both kites had ornaments hanging from the tails. Red and gold patterns were everywhere.

"Very Gryffindor," Theodore stated. He looked at Granger, hoping she'd somehow understand his position. Instead, she grinned mischievously.

"Granger," he cautioned slowly, as if to avoid enticing her into any sudden movements. "There's no _way_ I'm touching that bloody thing."

Still grinning as she looked at Theodore, she said, "Is it okay if we borrow your kites for a few minutes?"

Thomas looked between Granger and Theodore. Finnigan shrugged. "Sure," Thomas answered. "We'll reel them back in."

Theodore turned and walked away. Granger was right behind him.

"Where are you going?"

"Back inside," Theodore muttered. "Or to the lake. Somewhere away from here."

"Don't be so sensitive," she patronized. "It's just a kite."

"It's not 'just a kite,'" Theodore argued. "It's Gryffindor."

Granger huffed. "And?"

He looked around as if it were obvious. "And nothing! I'm a Slytherin. It's bad enough I'm currently surrounded by Gryffindors, right in front of the castle—"

"You're not _surrounded_—"

"You'd do the same, you know," Theodore countered. "If that thing wore Slytherin colors, if Thomas and Finnigan were Pansy and Blaise, you wouldn't touch it, either."

She stomped impatiently. "It's different, Theo."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah?"

"Slytherins aren't Gryffindors."

"What are you getting at, Granger?"

"You know what I'm getting at." She sighed and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Maybe…maybe it's a lot harder than we think."

"What?"

"Changing perceptions, point of views. If we can't even challenge our own presumptions…" Granger trailed off, thoughtfully looking at something just beyond Theodore.

It was Theodore's turn to sigh. He let his body sag and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "I'll fly the stupid kite with you."

She smiled and clapped. "Excellent!"

"You know that if I do this, you'll have to come with me to some Slytherin function," Theodore reasoned.

He could have sworn Granger's face turned a paler shade. Nonetheless, she agreed. They made their way back toward the kites, where Finnigan and Thomas handed theirs over.

"We don't need any cock-ups," Finnigan warned. "Me & Dean just bought these over summer."

Theodore almost rolled his eyes. He faced Granger and asked if they'd be levitating the kites up into the air.

Granger and the two other Gryffindors laughed. "What's the fun if there's magic involved?"

Theodore bit his tongue. _What's the fun if there isn't?_

Finnigan and Thomas walked back to the entrance of Hogwarts. Theodore guessed they'd be watching from the shade, hiding behind some tree to take shelter from the wind. As a final attempt to leave, he asked Granger if he could just watch her fly the kite instead.

"You're _always_ watching, Theo."

His eyebrows raised. "I have no idea how to take that."

"I mean you're always a spectator. A casual observer. The listener. Another not-so-innocent bystander. Today," Granger said, "that changes."

He smirked. "That'll never change."

She laughed because it was true. "Then for an hour, it'll come to a halt. No more unnerving stares from you—"

"You think my stares are unnerving?" Theodore teased.

Granger gave him a look only she could pull off. "Theo, _everyone_ thinks your stare is unnerving."

With that, she lightly tossed the kite into the air. The wind was strong enough to force the kite into hovering at their eye-level. Granger slackened the string and paced backwards. Theodore watched the bird take flight before glancing back down at the one in his hands. He had never flown a kite before, not even as a child. Grabbing hold of the small bar down the center of the bird, he lifted it up and followed the dancing ribbons on its tail. Even if the crimson and gold wasn't to his liking, he could still admit the thing was designed with great taste.

His attention on the kite faltered and he found himself looking back at the castle. He inwardly groaned at the sight of green and silver—that had to be Draco in the front, with what looked like Millicent, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy behind him. Interestingly enough, they weren't focused on Theodore standing like an idiot in the middle of the grounds while holding a disgustingly Gryffindor display. Draco seemed to be saying something in Granger's direction. She also couldn't hear whatever the git was saying.

She yelled to him from a distance. "Throw the kite up, Nott!"

Draco reached inside his robes. Theodore watched the blond closely; was he going for his wand? Thomas took notice and made his way toward the Slytherins. Finnigan wasn't far behind. Draco pointed at Granger's kite and a blast of light blue jetted out from the tip of his wand. Granger barely had time to blink as the bird came to life and, with a strange wail, looped around and headed straight for her.

Theodore didn't think. He dropped the kite and ran. Someone must have tried to stop the bird, because another blinding stream of light came rushing toward it. The kite was hit by orange and flames quickly engulfed the beast.

Something was wrong. The attempt to destroy it didn't burn the kite to ashes. If anything, the bird zoomed faster at Granger, its flames enraged and adding a frightening dimension to the creature. She hastily dropped her roll of string and stumbled backwards, digging into her pockets for her wand.

He kept running, perpendicular to the kite. With a strained lunge, Theodore grabbed Granger's side and the pair landed harshly on the ground, only inches outside of the bird's rapid path. He scrambled to reach for the wand that fell out of her pockets, then yelled, "_finite incantatem!_"

The beast slowed mid-loop and the embers died out. Still heavily breathing, Theodore came back to Granger. She propped herself up, but didn't rise to her feet. She was stunned and staring at him.

"Here's your wand," he mumbled, tossing it to her. She made no move to retrieve it, so he briskly turned around and headed to the castle. He ignored both the Gryffindors and Slytherins calling his name, calling Granger's name. Looking straight ahead, his eyes dared anyone to stop him as he walked through the entrance, his hands balled as fists in his pockets.


End file.
